What Was In the Cargo?
by texasPanzer
Summary: In the search for a missing World War II ship, the Quest Team find themselves in a tangled web of mystery. The ship is thought to carry gold and silver and lost with all hands. Now they must find why no rescue was made and why veterans are refusing to talk about this ship.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own the characters to _The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest._ They are owned by Hanna-Barbera. I did create the other characters and this story is entirely fictional. Enjoy.**

30 August 1942, the destroyer, _USS Comet (DD-202)_ , departed New Hebrides island of La Santa, bound for Australia. It left alone and disappeared in the waters of the South Pacific. Its disappearance, during the start of the Guadalcanal Campaign, was largely forgotten by the larger fighting. By the end of the war, the ship was stricken from the Naval Registry and the crew declared missing in action. For 70 years it remained that way.

There was little interest in finding the ship. That changed when rumors circulated that the _Comet_ was carrying a bountiful cargo of precious goods. Many treasure hunters from around the world now had a fascination in finding it. Every attempt to locate the ship was thwarted. In 2009, a Chinese research vessel, the _Xiangyanghony 8_ , disappeared off the coast of New Caledonia while searching for the _Comet_. The weather was calm and the ship had been transmitting daily reports when it abruptly stopped with no alarm. After three days and no contact, a massive search operation was conducted. After a month, no trace of the ship was found or its crew of 100 people. At least two aircraft have also disappeared in the search for the _Comet._ Rumors circulated that many more were also lost to the depths of the ocean.

That's where the Quest Team came in; Dr. Benton Quest, head the team with teenage son Jonny. Their friend, ex-operative, Race Bannon, his daughter Jesse, and Dr. Quest's personal assistant, and Jonny and Jessie's friend, Hadji. They received a personal invitation from the leader of the **_Barnard Undersea Recovery_** headed by Dr. Simon T. Barnard, to join him in his search. With his younger brother, Emil, serving as vice-president, the two had spent twenty years exploring the world's oceans looking for wrecks to solve the great mysterious of modern time. In one of their first major successes, they recovered a Spanish galleon in the Caribbean loaded with 200 tons of gold. In another, they found the wreckage of a German U-boat just five miles off the coast of New York City. The brothers became famous with these and many other finds. However, in the past five years, the expeditions turned into clunkers. They went searching for Amelia Earhart in the South Pacific and Flight 19 off the east coast of Florida. After much hype and millions of dollars, both yielded nothing. It was thought that the search of the _Comet_ would have the same ending.

Dr. Quest took up the request partly due to a need for a vacation and because of a need to satisfy an old debt. The two doctors go back many years. Dr. Barnard was once a student of Dr. Quest when he was earning his Ph.D in Bangor, and gone on several expeditions together. When Dr. Quest agreed to join them in the South Pacific, naturally, his son and his friends pleaded to follow. Dr. Quest couldn't refuse.

As the Quest team crossed the Pacific, the three teens sat in the back of the Dragonfly, pouring themselves over the photos and photo-copies of documents forwarded to them by Dr. Barnard. They were seemingly infatuated with the mystery despite having little information to go on. Because the ship was lost in the war, much of the documentation, log books and more, went with it. Many more records were probably lost in the 70 years since, either by neglect, mis-management, or destroyed.

Hadji sat calmly while looking upon one file that did surface, a copy of an manifest of the _Comet,_ said by Dr. Barnard to have been lost during the war. It had been allegedly found in a packet of other unrelated documents deep within the National Archives. On the manifest the _Comet_ departed the island loaded down with a heavy assortment of various items; 100 tons of gold in bars and coins, 150 tons of silver bars, 50 million dollars in American silver certificates, aircraft parts, 80 sacks of mail, and eight undocumented passengers. At the time this manifest was drafted, judging by the date on the paper, the items came from the island itself, not from another ship, location simply labeled, 'La Santa'. Hadji formulated the easy question, what was so much precious metal and currency doing on an island that was uninhabited? This cast doubts on the integrity of the manifest, as well as Dr. Barnard's other claims to have found other evidence of the _Comet._ Ever the detailed researcher, Hadji had compared the alleged manifest with other documentation and found several flaws that he showed to Jessie and Jonny, "The signatures at the bottom of the page are from people I cannot find in any US Navy personnel database," said Hadji.

"You thinking it's a forgery?" Jessie asked as she carefully took the page and looked it over.

"I am thinking that this is a manipulated one," Hadji said as he looked at a second page, copies of orders sent to the _Comet_ ordering her to return to Brisbane, Australia. "Look at this one here..." turning the printed side to his friends, "There is also a discrepancy in the official story. See here..." pointing to a second printed paragraph, "It says that a 'gunboat' escorted the _Comet_ for, perhaps, a quarter of the journey before returning to New Hebrides." He was referring to was the _USS Asteroid,_ an Asheville class gunboat _._ Hadji sat silently and pondered. Jonny knew that look. He waited intently as his Indian friend raised a finger. "If," Hadji began, "This ship was loaded with such precious cargo, why did it _not_ have an escort for the whole voyage?"

Putting down the page onto the table, Jessie stood up to stretch her tired arms, "Yeah. That doesn't make sense. Some 250 tons of gold and silver and they just let it go on its own? I mean, I would have put it on a battleship or something, first. Not some old tin can."

"The journey gets even stranger, my friends," Hadji continued, "There were no Japanese reports of any engagements during that day that have survived the war."

"Yeah, but Hadji, there could have been submarines there, right?" Jonny scoffed slightly.

"Very possible. But, those that did survive say that no Japanese surface ships or submarines were within 300 miles of the Island," Hadji said as he pulled out the pieces of paper from the pile that were marked as such. He slid them over to Jonny who picked them up and read them.

"A ship like this doesn't just vanish," Jesse sighed as she sat down. "What are we thinking, another Bermuda Triangle?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Hadji replied. "While there were no weather reports stating a cyclone in the area, there are other natural events that could have occurred that swallowed the ship."

That _tin can_ that Jesse referenced had a few pictures to its name, some of which she looked over with interest. They were all black-and-white, some of them grainy from bad film stock and storage after 70 years. Attempts had been made to digitally scan and enhance the image to SD level, however, the stock was simply too degraded. The _Comet_ was a four-stacked, flush deck, Clemson-class destroyer. First laid down in 1919, it had missed the Great War and served in the peace-time navy, cruising off China and the Philippines. When war broke out on 7 December 1941, the _Comet_ was with Destroyer Division 57 off the Dutch colony of Balikpapan. After the disastrous Battle of the Java Sea in late-February 1942, the _Comet_ and others were ordered to evacuate to Australia. From there, the Comet took up anti-submarine operations off the Australian coast.

In comparison to destroyers around the time, and what came out towards the end of the war, the _Comet_ wasn't all that impressive. She was 314 feet and 4 1/2 inches in length. At a full load she displaced 1,308 tons. Her armament; four-4" deck guns in open mountings, a 3" gun for AA defense on its stern, and 12-21" torpedoes in four-3 tube mountings, two on each side amidships. The after carried two depth-charge racks.

In comparison, the Fletcher class destroyer, _USS Kimberly_ , commissioned in 1943, she was 376 feet 6 inches long with a 2,050 ton displacement. She carried 5 rapid firing 5"/38 caliber guns in full-armored housings, 10-40mm Bofors and 7-20mm Oerlikon guns for anti-aircraft defense, 10-21" torpedo tubes, 6 depth charge projectors and 2 depth charge racks.

In comparing the two, the _Comet_ was puny. Which begs the question, why would the _Comet_ depart through hostile waters without an escort? Not only that, they were also troubled by the unlisted passengers that _Comet_ allegedly took on. A ship's Captain is ' _Second to God_ ' when it comes to command of his ship. He must know everyone and everything that comes aboard and leaves his vessel. Why would Commander Edgar Wright Pound, a highly decorated and 20 year veteran of the Navy, not question this, at least officially? There were no reports or copies of wire transmissions of his or anyone else inquiring about these mysterious passengers. That is, if the manifest was real.

"What if they're aliens?" Jesse giggled, gently elbowing Jonny in his right hip.

Jonny rolled his eyes, "Come on, Jess. Aliens? I think we can keep our ideas here on earth for a change."

"You know, Dr. Barnard suggests that the passengers may have been high-ranking Japanese officials or officers that wished to surrender," Hadji said as he stacked the pages back in their proper order. Race called from the cockpit that they were preparing their descent to La Santa.

Thinking about it for a moment, Jonny cracked his knuckles, "Well, I'll believe it when I see it."

"It's so tragic, isn't it?" Jesse whispered. "A whole ship, it's crew...gone. God, I couldn't imagine what the family must've felt, not knowing what happened to them."

"That's what we're hoping to find out, Jess," Jonny nodded.

The last bit of information that was provided was an expedition carried out by Dr. Barnard years before. He located the last surviving crew-member of the _Comet,_ Petty Officer 2nd Class Norman H.W. Walker. He began greatly ill with a ruptured appendix that required a surgeon beyond what the Comet could provide. PO2 Walker watched from a stretcher on the deck of a hospital ship as the Comet slipped over the horizon. Walker underwent the surgery, recovered, and continued his service through the war and into Korea. Since then, however, he openly refused to discuss any aspect of his service on the _Comet._ It became a taboo subject in his family. When interest was sparked about a possible treasure, poor Walker was hounded day and night by amateur treasure seekers and conspiracy theorists to the point that he suffered a nervous breakdown and was checked into a VA facility. In reading about him, Jesse sat there and pondered greatly. Something wasn't right about it. She wasn't accusing Walker of anything sinister, but why would he refuse to discuss only his service on the _Comet._ "Something's telling me that something happened on the _Comet_ and he wanted to get off the ship," she said as she looked at a grainy photo of Walker dated back to his induction into the Navy in '38.

"Like what?" Jonny asked, curiously.

"I'm not sure," her green eyes narrowing as she looked at the gray pupils of Walker's. "I just got a feeling, you know? Something's not right. We have personal file from the Navy. Nothing here states Walker was a bad sailor. But, I don't know, something about his sudden illness and getting off the ship just before its final journey...I'm just thinking..."

"Well, what are you thinking, Jess?" Jonny asked.

"I'm just thinking that maybe Mr. Walker wanted off that ship," Jessie sighed. There was more to her thoughts but that's what was coming out. "If he never talked about the ship, refused to, and he becoming sick before it left, I'm just thinking, something terrible must have happened, that he hurt himself in order to get off that ship."

Hadji starred wide-eyed for a moment, "That is a big accusation, my friend. I would be cautious about saying such things outside this group."

"I know, Hadji. This just doesn't sit right with me," said Jess as she ran a hand quickly through her red hair. "I can't explain it. Nothing about this is making much sense to me the more I think about it."

The Catalina flying boat circled the small harbor of La Santa, temporary base for the ' **Deep Explorer** _'_ company. The harbor and its facilities were built during the War, after the _Comet_ departed on her final journey. Race expertly landed the seaplane and taxied her towards the sandy shore where several men pulled her onto the beach with ropes. Opening the hatch and stepping down the ladder, the Quest Team found themselves on a tropical paradise; bright sandy beaches, lush foliage, bright blue water, and a clear sky. "Wow. This place is incredible!" Jonny exclaimed as he walked along the shore, bathing in the warm rays of the sun.

"Hard to believe that this place was part of the war," Dr. Quest sighed as he watched his son and Jesse walk along the beach in front of him, followed right behind by Hadji and Bandit.

"Yep. Sure does bring back memories," Race nodded as the two walk side by side. Their walking led them to a series of old, refurbished buildings. They were the last remnants of the US Navy base, several Quonset huts-semicircular cross-section buildings made of corrugated, galvanized steel about 75 yards inland of the beach. Above the door of one of them was 'Dr. Barnard' on a simple wood sign. Dr. Quest knocked on the splintering wood door. Deep inside there was a rustle of papers and shuffling of feet. "Come in" was the groaned response.

"He seems chipper," Race surly replied as he stepped in first, followed by the children. The room was filled with the natural light coming in from many windows along the curved wall on either side. A simple wood desk sat near the back wall, occupied by a single man going through stacks of papers. As the Quest Team approached, the figure paid no attention to them. Instead he looked at papers with a small magnify glass. Even from 20 feet away, Dr. Quest knew it was Dr. Barnard with his long silver hair, even though he was only 39 and a strong physique. Standing in front of the desk, Dr. Quest looked down at Dr. Barnard who still wasn't reacting to their presence. It took Bandit to yelp that the silver haired doctor looked up with at first a scowl and then wide eyes, "Dr. Quest!" jumping up from his seat. "It's been a long time."

"Yes, it has," Dr. Quest nodded with a smile. "Five years, as a matter of fact. It was the wreck of _Ichi Maru_ , as I recall."

"Yeah. A real bust on that one. Sure, got a lot of press. But, we didn't recover what we thought it had."

Standing behind Race and Dr. Quest, Jonny leaned over and whispered to Jesse, "What's the _Ichi Maru_?" Jesse could only shrug.

The adults continued to talk with Dr. Barnard saying, "You've come at a great time. We've been having all sorts of trouble."

"Trouble? Like what?" asked Race.

"All sorts of things," Dr. Barnard replied, sitting down with a grunt. His knees ached. The others couldn't see it but his legs were bandaged. He was one of the many casualties from a string of accidents. "Two days ago, a line snapped and swept several of us on deck off our feet. A week prior to that, two of our guys suffered concussions when they were violently thrown against the bulkhead. Just yesterday, one of our submersibles was dropped into the ocean when a crane broke. No one was on board, thankfully. We had to spend the entire day recovering it and fixing the damage. Needless to say, we're behind schedule in our _salvaging_..."

"Salvaging?" Dr. Quest raised an eyebrow. The tone of the word caught him off guard.

Seeing this, Dr. Barnard was all smiles as it opened up a folder on his desk and pushed it towards the Quest Team, he said, "Take a look for yourself."

Hovering over the folder, Dr. Quest peeled off the first page, a colored-HD quality photograph taken by one of the submersibles. The photograph was of the bow of the ship, sitting upright and seemingly intact. Though there was a thin layer of marine growth covering it, the numbers '202' could still be seen clearly."You found it, you actually found it?!" Dr. Quest exclaimed. "After over 70 years, you finally found the lost ship?"

"We did," Dr. Barnard nodded firmly. "Dumb luck, or Divine Intervention. When that submersible fell into the ocean, we were heading back to port after a week of nothing. When we went down after it, boom, there she was. The sub missed it by just 30 feet. It's only in 100 feet of water, too. We're sending divers down there tomorrow, if the weather cooperates."

"I don't believe it," Dr. Quest smiled as he looked at the photo before passing it around to the others. "After all these years..."

"And three million dollars," Dr. Barnard tacked on. "Now we can justify the patience of our workers and our contributors."

"Well that sounds all fine and dandy," Race replied, "But I don't see how you guys need us, considering you already found it."

"That's where you're wrong, Mr. Bannon," Dr. Barnard slowly stood back up. "See, I need a man with the level of intellect as Dr. Quest and a man of such action as yourself to be able to help us in this recovery effort. We've suffered a few casualties and there's a lot more going on than just the hunt for gold and silver. There's the hunt for answers. We can answer a lot of mysteries with this ship, like the identities of these unlisted people. And we can put these men to rest."


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own the characters to _The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest._ They are owned by Hanna-Barbera. I did create the other characters and this story is entirely fictional. Enjoy.**

"That was going to be much easier than I expected," Jesse sighed as her bare feet combed through the fine hand of the bright beach. On either side of her, Jonny and Hadji lay, warming themselves under the sun in a cloudless day.

"I'll say," Jonny replied, his hands cupped under his head. "I thought it would take longer to find the ship."

Hadji, his eyes closed, wasn't convinced. "There are many steps in the path of truth, my friends. Finding the ship is only that one step. There are still many questions left to be answered."

Jesse had to agree. Was the _Comet_ a treasure ship? Why did it sink and why did one of her crew leave just before she departed? Dr. Quest and Race would be the ones to venture down to the _Comet,_ but that would only happen after an intense scrutiny of the vessel using Dr. Bernard's remotely operated vehicle (ROV). Over 70 years submerged, the integrity of the ship was in question. Perhaps the ROV could find a path into the ship and find the treasure or find more clues to its demise. Bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them in a tight hug, Jesse looked over at Hadji with concern, "What do you think they'll find?"

"I do not know," Hadji replied. "And I do not wish to make guesses."

"You worried about being wrong, Hadji?" Jesse smirked.

"No, my friend," opening his eyes. "I'm worried about being _right_."

The two teams would have to wait until the next day before they could go back to the _Comet_. On board the research team's vessel, _Deep Explorer One,_ they assembled near the ship's fantail as Dr. Bernard was showing off his $3 million machine. It was square shaped, a mere 4' tall and wide to allow it to get into tight places. On board were scanners, flood lights and 12 HD cameras, two on each face of the machine. This would allow the ROV to see in every direction without moving. It was tethered to the mother-ship was a coil of covered wires connected to the monitor room where the two teams assembled following the release of an ROV. The room was silent. Dr. Bernard stood in front of the 70" screen that was still turned off. His arms were folded to his chest, foot tapping rhythmically. Standing to his left and several feet behind, Race and Dr. Bannon stood though not as pensive. "Doc, that guy is more nervous than I was on my wedding," Race whispered before running a hand through his short silver hair.

"It's a historic occasion, Race," Dr. Quest whispered back in a soft tone. "The end of a 70 year question..."

Race scoffed, "I gotta tell ya, Doc. You two on the same path to two different missions." When his friend looked at him inquisitively, Race tapped a finger to Dr. Quest's chest, "You're here to get answers. He's here for plunder." His words weren't heard by Dr. Bernard.

On the far left side of the room, the ROV operator, wearing a headset over his ears, was leering at his screen. He couldn't see anything beyond 20 or so feet because of the darkness of the ocean, illuminated by two powerful floodlights. He was homing in on a beacon dropped beside the vessel during the previous salvage attempt, but it was slow going. The ocean current was pushing the machine to the south and kicking up sediment in blinding flurries. His eyes glanced at the machine's Heads Up Display (HUD) showing, depth, water current, water pressure, power levels, and distance to the beacon. "Should be seeing it in the next few seconds, Dr. Bernard," with a press of a button the 70" monitor came on showing the same image as the operator, minus the HUD. Just flurries of sediment on a black painting. Then, a shape appeared on the right side of the screen. The ROV stopped, turned 20 degrees to the right, paused again because of another flurry, then turned 20 more. Venturing forward 50 more feet, a green sheet appeared. The room gasped in surprise.

"There she is!" smiled Race. It was the _Comet._

"Turning on the scanners now," the operator said. Pressing another button on his console caused a high-pitched whine in his headset. That was the scanners coming to life. The sensors could penetrate the marine growth and render a 3D map of the ship as they progressed. It would show what they couldn't see, any holes, cracks or other structural defects.

His eyes glued to the screen, Dr. Bernard said nothing as the ROV moved to a position just in front of and 8 feet above the ship's bow. This section appeared to be in good shape. The ship sat almost fully upright. Marine growth had covered every inch of it, turning what was one gray into a bright green.

Indeed, the next item on the ship was the cap-stand, a mere green mole on the teak deck. "We should see the gun next," whispered Dr. Quest.

Reading about the ship once more last night, the three teens agreed with Jonny whispering, "It's a 4" gun..." to no one in particular. Indeed, the gun mount loomed into view, encrusted with growth along its full length. The gun had a partial shield that was exposed in the back allowing gunners to pick up ready ammo from bins at the base of the bridge. What was strange, the gun was aimed to the left, at a near 11 o'clock to the bow. Pushing forward, gently rising above the gun, the bottom facing camera took a picture of it for later reference. Leaning to Jesse, "That's weird. Why is the gun like that?"

Hearing him without turning, Dr. Bernard waved a hand low, "It could've been knocked around when the ship sank." He was rather annoyed at these delays. He didn't care for gun mounts or their positioning. He cared what was inside the ship. If that treasure was found, then it would be wealthy. But it was more than that, it was justification. Justifying that he was right, so many others were wrong, and he would open his life to future endeavors. He had the image of being over the people, over the people that found the Titanic, the Bismark, the USS Yorktown, and so many Spanish galleys in the Caribbean. Sharply breathing in, he sighed, "Proceed." He couldn't just rush into the ship. It could be structurally unsafe. If the ship broke apart because of their trespass, he would only be out an ROV at this point. However, the machine cost $3 million. His investors were wavering. If this trip failed, then the company would implode.

"We getting a 3D image of the ship, doctor," said the technician. He meant to speak to Dr. Bernard, his boss, however, Dr. Quest, so eager, replied instead.

"Great! Pull it up, please," Dr. Quest asked as he stepped towards the large monitor. His old student turned his head towards him, eyes narrowed in silent annoyance, but accepted it. The screen flickered to life revealing the bright green hue to the bow of the ship. It was a computer generated image, but it looked incredibly life like, peeling away the layer of sea life to reveal rivets and plating of the vessel as though it had just been launched. "Remarkable technology..." he gasped softly.

Dr. Bernard couldn't agree more. "This scans the area thousands of times over, giving us a near pin point level of quality to objects. If we can get our ROV inside the ship, we can scan the interior and pinpoint where the cargo is, thereby lessen the risk to divers."

Bannon's eyes widened slightly, "You're gonna risk sending in _people_ down there?"

Half turning back, Dr. Bernard smirked, "Indeed, Mr. Bannon. Our ROVs are fantastic pieces of machinery, but they can't do everything. If this truly is the treasure ship that I hope it is, we're going to need people down there to secure and recover it, before anyone else does." He sounded deeply committed. Looking back at the monitor, the technician pushed the ROV towards the bridge. The bridge had a rather parabolic configuration. The tip of the formation, aimed at the bow, was flat faced, the wings dropped back by about 45 degrees. There were five visible portholes about 5-6" off the deck, one on the face and two on either side. Above that was a bulge or blister, perhaps to protect the bridge from incoming fire or ocean spray. Above that was the bridge itself. The windows were all gone, perhaps smashed when the ship sank. The frames were all encrusted in marine life. Just above the bridge, on an exposed platform, was the destroyer's director scope, train transmitter, range finder for the guns. They all appeared to be intact.

"Switching back to normal view," said the operator. The screen flickered back to the bright green ship and black ocean. Jonny's eyes adjusted to the change. He stepped forward until he was nearly at Dr. Bernard's side. Slowly moving towards the stern via the port-side, Dr. Quest was watching in awe as Race folded his arms tightly to his chest, deep in thought while watching. Race, being former service himself, respected the Navy. It was already risque being here disturbing a war-grave. But, they were on a mission.

"What are those?" Dr. Quest towards at a metal tube projecting acutely towards the right of the screen. The tube was affixed to the deck by a traversal mounting.

"Those are torpedo tubes, doc," Race replied with a thin smile. "21-inch torpedoes in triple tubes. There should be another set further aft."

Eagerly, Dr. Bannon turned to the technician and gently extended a finger towards him while still watching the screen, "Can you aim the camera into the tubes, please?"

"Certainly, sir," nodded the technician. "One moment." He rapped his fingers on the keyboard, feeding directions to the camera. It took a moment for it to follow the command, turn to the right, drop back, turn to the left and drift slightly to the right to look at the muzzles of the tubes, the caps of which were missing.

"My word!" gasped Dr. Bannon. The tubes were empty.

"Looks like the lady got into a fight," Bannon nodded.


	3. Chapter 3

I **do not own the characters to _The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest._ They are owned by Hanna-Barbera. I did create the other characters and this story is entirely fictional. Enjoy.**

For three hours the submersible went over the _Comet_ from bow to stern and back again before going over the debris field surrounding it. The metal detectors and scanners were picking up large amounts of metal scattered for several hundred meters in every direction. The sub deployed a perforated bag and with a robotic arm started scooping up samples for testing. On the mother-ship the Quest Team and Dr. Bernard's team were enthusiastic. Having found the _Comet_ will set things on the right path in their quest for the truth. It was in shallow enough waters, and if the ship was stable enough, they could send people down there. But that would only come when they send a smaller sub to test the confines of the ship.

"Well, I'll be, Benton," Race smirked as his eyes were glued to the monitor, "This one was a lot easier than the other adventures we've been on."

"I would agree with you there, Race" Dr. Quest smiled as he also watched the monitor was the robotic arm picked up a large metallic cylinder, rusted green, and carefully placed it in the bag. Must be a spent shell casing from one of _Comet's_ guns.

That's the thing that was gnawing at the veteran Race. He knew from experience that a path to a goal that had no obstacles was either a trap or a pit. "Still though, I don't like the looks of it. The ship here looks like it went through a brawl, like a cat let loose in a kennel," as Race spoke the submersible had completed its gathering along the sea floor and was slowly returning to the surface with a bag full of wreckage for analysis. Leaning over his friend, Race whispered, "You think though finding this, ol' Bernard there would act like its Christmas." Glancing over to the computer console, hunched over the keyboard beside the technician guiding the sub, Dr. Bernard was strangely quite and seemingly frozen in place, having remained in that pose for half an hour. He had not spoken during that time, either.

Around him his technicians were reading off data from the sub's sensors, those were now the only words in the room until the submersible was out of the water and back on the deck of the mother-ship. The bag of wreckage was carefully laid out for everyone on board to see on deck. Several long, thin green cylinders were laid out side by side. Coming up on deck to see for themselves, Race crouched over the cylinders but was not allowed to touch them without gloves. " They were indeed shell casings with each one weighing about 15lbs each, made of brass, and possessed a 102mm diameter cavity where the projectile once sat. They were 4" casings from the _Comet_. One of the technicians remarked, "There were more of them, the sensors picked them up. We only went after what we could see" as he sprayed the artifacts with a hose. After 50+ years under the ocean, most of the organic material either rotted away or were eaten. What was left was mostly metal.

Most of the crew gathered on deck were excited as they crouched over and looked at the findings. There was enough proof to show that this was the _Comet_ , their ultimate goal. Photos were taken by the score. Yet, the only one seemingly not pleased was Dr. Bernard who stood over the artifacts with his hands clasped behind his back and a curled lower lip. He had the look of a disappointed father. It was noticed by Jonny, Jesse, and Hadji standing a few feet to his right as they also looked at the findings.

"I bet he was expecting gold bars" Jonny whispered.

"I think so," Jesse replied. "Look at him, he has no interest in anything they brought up. Maybe he'll lighten up when they go inside the ship."

The ship was forced to go back to the island at the end of the day. There was a forecast a storm the following day. With the mother-ship anchored offshore, the team, including Jonny and his friends, were sent ashore to wait it out in their huts. By that time the scanners were able to identify most of the metallic objects both on and around the ship. "So many shell casings, Dr. Quest," Hadji replied. "By my count, 101-5" and 45-3" shells. All of which trace to American-made weaponry."

"That's no accident," Race smirked as he sat behind them, feet propped up on a table, hands clasped behind his head. "The _Comet_ was in a fight. That's not some trigger-happy nerves or gunnery practice, Benton. The ship's torpedo tubes are empty. That means they were close to a target and were fighting for their lives."

"I would agree," Dr. Quest nodded before turning to his assistant, "Hadji, has the underwater mapping turned up any signs of another ship in the area, maybe a submarine?"

"The complete sonar mapping isn't available just yet, Dr. Quest," Hadji replied as he glanced up at Dr. Quest. "But a mapping in the immediate area of the _Comet_ shows some debris, likely broken off the ship as it sank. Also, the scans show the hull of the ship has suffering significant damage," pointing at one in particular, four holes in a tight cluster, each one about the larger in diameter than a basket ball. They were against the portside hull just below the bridge. There were no exit holes on the opposite side. Perhaps these were high explosive shells that exploded on impact or did penetrate the thin hull of the ship and exploded inside. Another hole of a similar diameter was found at the ship's fantail. Her superstructure was peppered with small holes perhaps caused by machine gun fire. It was hard to tell as marine growth had covered up many of the smaller holes in the ship. "In comparing the diameter of these of these holes with that of Japanese records," Hadji said as the data came up on screen, "They are similar to that on Yara-Class cruisers. But they were also carried by many other vessels, including battleships."

Chuckling to himself, Race sighed, "Well, that's some proof-the old girl must have run into a surface force and was overwhelmed. Those holes right there shows that the Japanese were excellent gunners," referring to the tight grouping on the hull. Turning to his companion, Dr. Quest asked for his veteran-advice. "I'm betting the old gal was caught by surprise and chased down by a Japanese surface force. The ship has no radar, it's old, it's engine may have been fully functional, but she could only make, what, 35 or so knots? Japanese destroyers could make nearly 41 knots." As he spoke, more eyes fell on him. "Sure the old gal tried to make a run, save itself and its cargo. But they couldn't run for long. The Skipper probably set a smoke screen to maneuver, get some distance and call for help. But, no help is coming" shrugging his powerful shoulders. "At some point that's when she took that hit to her stern. Probably damaged her engines. It wasn't a mortal blow, though. She was probably trying to crawl away or using what power was left to into her enemy and let loose with her torpedoes. The Mark 8 torpedoes had a range of 14,000 yards, right?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Those things were weak with their 500lb warheads. Even if they got a solid hit on one of those Japanese tin-cans, there was no guarantee of it sinking or even being severely damaged."

"Well then, why fire them?" asked Dr. Quest.

"Scare them" Race said, pulling himself forward and standing up. "Those ships can't turn on a dime. If they can get a ship to turn away, then it not only throws off their gunnery, it also opens a gap between ships." He took several steps towards the glowing monitor. "After letting loose the torpedoes to give her some breathing room, the _Comet_ probably tried to crawl away under a smoke screen. But the enemy caught up. The old gal put up a fight, gunners firing as fast as they could with everything they had. By then, she was either slow or dead in the water, it was no real contest." Extending a finger he stabbed the screen to the grouping of holes. "From there, it was a shooting range."

What Race said was convincing. But they needed more proof. That would only come by going down there and examining the ship inside and out as well as examining the field around the wreckage for signs of a Japanese ship, perhaps their own shell casings. Just one would be enough to prove Race's idea.

Armed with this new data, Hadji was busy accessing online Japanese records, matching known ship movements in the area at the time that possessed matching weapons. Sadly, his search yielded no fruit. He sighed and slumped into his chair, "I'm sorry, Dr. Quest" closing his eyes, "It would seem that this information was lost during the War" opening his eyes to a statement on the screen, translated from Japanese kanji, "Records in this period have been lost."

Putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, Dr. Quest said, "I think that's enough for today, Hadji. Why don't you get some rest?"


End file.
